


Under Pressure

by WaferBiscuits



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Killing Game Was A Virtual Reality Simulation (Dangan Ronpa), Minor Original Character(s), One Shot, Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma, Semi-Realistic Hospital Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29369379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaferBiscuits/pseuds/WaferBiscuits
Summary: Kokichi is reborn to the real world after a horrific death that leaves him in a state of constant terror and confusion. People visit him and try to help as they can.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede/Oma Kokichi, Gokuhara Gonta/Oma Kokichi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 56
Collections: Quality Fics





	Under Pressure

Kokichi was forced into consciousness like any other killed participant in a typical Danganronpa season. It was all the same to the IT guys who did routine shut downs for the murdered and executed participants.

The VR pods were full-body, a lot like the fabricated cryogenic sleep chambers from the Gofer Project plot twist. They restrained the participants by the wrists and ankles. A bird’s nest of intravenous wires snaked into their skulls.

No one was surprised when Kokichi, who had come into the game room as someone bright-eyed and eager, had screamed. A little yelling was normal, especially for the victims. The simulation had a state-of-the-art accurate illusion of the death process, all to the nitty gritty details.

Every participant’s experience coming back to the real world was different. Some woke quietly, some woke with a gasp, and some were screamers (as the IT guys affectionately called them).

Kokichi was wrenched back to the world of the living in a flurry of violent spasms and strangled cries. His hands lay flat and his spine seemed almost anchored in place. His limbs jerked as if he had no control over them. His eyes were wide open in stupid glazed-over terror.

Pressure. All he could think about, all his brain was even able to understand, was the smell of corrugated metal. He could feel his bones creaking, straining, cracking, snapping. Narrow ribs caving in to a feather-light heart and lungs that strained to breathe, couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe. His mouth gaped but his brain didn’t understand. Air didn’t come in. Of course it couldn’t. Minutes ago he had been turned into something unspeakable, something leaking and gory.

The press. He was still in the press. He could feel the venom pumping down his back and through his veins, the worn silk of Kaito’s coat rubbing against his bare skin and contorting with his body as he was crushed into it.

The screams that Kokichi made were morphed by his death, fake even as it was. He writhed and seemed to gag on his own air.

One of the IT guys, an older veteran of the show, turned to a horrified intern. “Get one of the nurses here, will you? That one needs benzo.”

*

Kokichi didn’t remember waking up.

All he could remember was the hanger, Kaito’s face, the metal slab as it lowered closer, closer, closer.

“Kokichi?”

Maki’s hateful glare as the arrow sliced through his back, the creeping realization that there truly was no going back. He had committed to the act. He had to see it to curtain call.

He remembered, most horrible of all, the absolute loathing he had felt towards Kaito.

All because he had to fake drinking the antidote.

Kokichi didn’t have the words to even articulate the absolute malice that he had felt towards Kaito then, how much he had wanted to turn to him and fully spell out what was happening. He couldn’t. Maki was watching.

“Kokichi?”

The worst part, by far, was not being believed. It was easy to lie and spin the narrative, but it was far more difficult to tell the truth.

And Kaito, stupid, boneheaded, idiot Kaito, didn’t see just how hard that was for him. He didn’t even say anything to Kokichi when the exchange in the press had happened, not even a single word of comfort.

Kokichi hated him. There wasn’t a stronger way to put it. He hated Kaito. He hated his self-flagellation and egotism. The crueler part of his mind thought that Kaito deserved to let the poison eat him alive.

“Wake up, Kokichi, please.”

Kokichi remembered, when he had faked drinking the antidote, how the liquid had sloshed against his lips. It had been over 24 hours since had access to water or food. He couldn’t leave the hanger. His throat had felt hoarse and it had taken every ounce of what little sanity he had left to not drink it.

Something was happening. Something was touching him, like how the sleeve of Kaito’s jacket had brushed against his arm, but warmer.

“Kokichi there?”

The voice was deep, grounding, but muddied. It had to be some post-death delusion while the bloody slurry of his brain fired off random nonsense.

“It Gonta.”

A subconscious manifestation of his guilt before death. How poetic. Kaito would love this.

A warm calloused hand brushed against his forehead. That couldn’t be right.

“Mr. Gokuhara, he probably can’t hear you.” Another voice, someone unfamiliar. They had a detached, faux-sympathetic ring to their voice.

“It okay. Gonta can still talk to Kokichi?”

“Take your time.”

Kokichi could barely register the sound of footsteps followed by a door opening and closing. It was being drowned out in an undercurrent of beeping and a low buzzing that made his head throb.

Nothing was right. He had a sudden image of the press stopping half-way through crushing him. Maybe Kaito had wanted to stop. Maybe he had blown it all. Maybe the press hadn’t gotten to his heart and it still beat surrounded by the mangled pulp of his body.

Something new was happening. Another hand rested on his abdomen, skin on skin contact. Of course. He had gone into the press without a shirt.

“It not cold in here. Kokichi having bad dream? That why he shaking?”

Kokichi wanted to scream. If he could make any kind of conscious heads-or-tails of his own body, he would have. Anything to get himself to hurry up and die.

“It over, Kokichi,” the voice, Gonta, quavered. “Everyone safe now. Everyone protected.” Kokichi could feel him stroking his hair.

It wasn’t true. It had to be just a cruel pre-death show.

“Nurse say that Kokichi can’t hear anyone,” Gonta said, “but Gonta know different. So, Gonta hope Kokichi listening right now.”

Kokichi listened, resigned. He didn’t have much of a choice.

“Gonta think he understand why Kokichi ask he kill Miu… and Gonta know he should be angry, but all he feel is sad.” Gonta’s voice took on a warbling, uneven tone. It was clear he was crying. “Gonta only wish that Kokichi had asked for help instead of using tricks. But, at same time, Gonta know how awful things were, how bad outside world looked.”

The hand that had been petting Kokichi’s hair lifted away, but not before tucking a stray lock behind his ear.

“Gonta forgive you, Kokichi.”

Kokichi could only lie there and feel the shame burning him up from the inside out. 

*

Time passed, but Kokichi’s mind couldn’t make sense of how long. Since Gonta’s initial visit he had been able to open his eyes and turn his head. Everything else was completely paralyzed down to the fingertips

The doctor had called it a ‘psychosomatic trauma response’ and it would ‘go away in time’. She had even had the gall to say that he ‘was lucky to not need a ventilator’.

Being able to see only furthered Kokichi’s disorientation. As much as his sense of panic continued to convince him he was in the hanger, the rational part of his brain told him he was in some kind of hospital room. There was a window to his right, but any potential view outside was blocked by an adjacent building.

Near the room’s door was a large whiteboard that Kokichi had to squint to read. The board had lines running through it, dividing it into three sections. ‘Welcome to 3B, Kokichi!’ had been written at the top in a loopy scrawl with a smiling face doodled at the end.

If that was meant to make him feel better, it didn’t work. All it did was make his heart beat louder.

He tried to make out the rest of the board. It was clear that parts were often erased and rewritten from how many smudges were there. There was a ‘morning’ and ‘evening’ section, each listing a name of an RN, along with a space for vitals to be written. At the bottom of the board was a doctor’s name.

The door opened and an older looking man in scrubs walked in. He looked surprised, but pleased to see Kokichi staring at him.

“Hey there, buddy!” he chirped. “I don’t think you’ve been up whenever I’ve been in, but I’m Herb, I do all your morning vital checks and get your stuff straightened out for the day. Nice to meetcha.”

Kokichi didn’t reply. He didn’t even know if he was capable of it.

Herb didn’t seem to mind. He came over to Kokichi’s bedside and unhooked a velcro-coated cuff next to an IV stand. “I’m going to get your blood pressure first, okay?” he asked.

It was a struggle, but Kokichi managed to bob his head in a weak nod.

“Awesome possum.” Herb laced the cuff around Kokichi’s upper arm, slowly as to not disturb the tubing that was taped in on his wrist.

Kokichi could feel himself panic when the cuff tightened. A harsh gasp erupted from his lips and he trembled. It was the pressure, the _same_ pressure.

Herb must have noticed. He hummed in sympathy and placed a hand on Kokichi’s knee. “Promise that this is the hardest bit you’ll get from me today,” he murmured. He glanced at the gauge and ripped off the velcro. “Okay, looks like you’re 130/50 this morning.”

He strolled over to the whiteboard to uncap a marker and write down the number. “That’s pretty high, especially for someone your weight and age, but your BP has been running high pretty much the whole time you’ve been here. The Doctor has a cardiologist come in for consults to try and suss out a good med regime for you.”

None of it made sense. He was supposed to be in the hanger, not in a hospital with some salt and pepper haired nurse telling him he had fucking hypertension.

Kokichi could hear his breath whistling harshly through his nose.

Herb’s cheery smile softened. “Sorry for the info dump there. Let me steer back and get your pulse number real quick, okay? Then I’ll get your folio bag emptied and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Kokichi tried to steady his breathing and manage another nod.

“I took a look at the schedule for you today, and it looks like you’ve got a visitor coming in around noon.” Herb made adjustments to the mounted computer at Kokichi’s bedside. “That’ll be nice, huh?”

He had meant well. Any normal person would have wanted to hear that someone would be seeing them at their worst.

For Kokichi, all the promise of a visitor did was make him want to crumple into a ball and disappear.

*

Sure enough, there was a knock on his door at noon sharp. The ridiculous punctuality of it, if anything, made Kokichi relax a little. He had spent the entire morning worrying about the possibility of his unnamed ‘visitor’ being Kaito. The idea of seeing him specifically was enough to make him spiral into panic.

So when Kaede had walked into his room instead of Kaito, Kokichi’s first emotion was one of relief. That was quickly followed by confusion.

Kaede was standing there, alive. The last time Kokichi had seen her she had been left swinging with piano wire lacerating her neck. It didn’t make any sense. None of anything had made sense and no one had bothered to tell him why or how.

She looked just how she did before, even down to the kitschy music note hair clips.

He must have been staring, because her neutral smile faded to something more awkward. “Hey, uh, been a while, huh?” she asked. She spoke much more softly than she did before, and Kokichi had to strain his ears to make out her voice over his own orchestra of medical equipment.

When he didn’t say anything in reply, Kaede took a few steps towards his bedside. She was carrying a canvas tote bag over her shoulder. “Would it be okay if I hung out for a bit?” she asked, gesturing to a sad looking metal chair.

Kokichi opened his mouth to try to say something, anything. All he could manage was a hoarse croaking sound. He tried to contort his facial expression into something more guarded, but he was sure he only looked how he really felt: scared.

Kaede was giving him a patient smile. Her hand was resting on the chair’s backing in an expectant kind of way that annoyed him. He knew that if he just shook his head, she would leave without question. He had that power.

Still, without thinking, Kokichi nodded. He regretted it as he did it.

“Thanks.” Kaede sat. She adjusted the tote to rest in her lap. “I have to admit, it’s a little bizarre to see you so quiet.” Her laugh was breathy and strained.

She was one to talk. Even if she was sitting as closely as she was, Kokichi could barely make out what she was saying.

“I know things are probably pretty confusing right now. That’s how it was for me too.” Kaede leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “They told you, right?” she asked, looking pensive. “About what happened?”

Kokichi honestly wasn’t sure. His memory was more than fragmented. Anything that wasn’t related to the hanger or the death game seemed to slip through his fingers. He tried to remember the name of the nurse who had spoken to him earlier and found that he couldn’t even begin to guess. All he could bring up in his head were snippets of what Gonta had said, and even then those were quickly fading.

He’d probably forget this visit from Kaede too then. His ribs seemed to cage closer round his lungs. 

“Kokichi…” Kaede leaned in closer. “Hey, it’s okay…”

His eyesight had gone blurry. Kokichi blinked and felt tears drip. He wasn’t a stranger to crocodile crying, but this was different. The tears were real. He couldn’t control them, and that terrified him.

Kaede was looking at him with an expression that made Kokichi feel like he had been peeled apart. He hated how vulnerable it made him feel.

“Would it be okay to touch you?” she asked. “Like, maybe put my hand on your arm?” Soft as her voice was, the concern was genuine. Kokichi could tell. He knew a farce when he heard one.

“No.” He wasn’t sure how he had managed to say it. It didn’t even sound like his own voice. It sounded raw and unused, like a bad landline connection.

To her credit, Kaede didn’t flinch. “Sure thing.” She smiled. “It’s okay for me to be here though, right? I won’t mind if you need space. I know I did.”

Kokichi almost said no. It would have been a lie, but at least he’d get out of this interaction with some shred of dignity left.

Kaede shifted in her seat. “Kokichi?”

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie anymore, at least not now.

“It’s okay,” he managed to rasp. He couldn’t figure out to manage his own facial expression, but it was enough. Kaede smiled and nodded.

“Hey, so, I thought you might like this.” She opened her tote and pulled out a small mp3 player, a really ancient looking one. “So, Rantaro and I have been doing this for everyone when they… you know.”

Kokichi didn’t know, or at least he didn’t remember. Still, he listened, only barely questioning that Rantaro had somehow survived being brained in (by Kaede, no less). At this point it was just another puzzle to add to the pile.

Kaede fished out a pair of ear buds from her bag. “I know this might come off as kind of weird, especially since we never really talked that much, but me and Rantaro pirated some short story audiobooks and put them here.” She flushed, clearly more than a little embarrassed. “Well, Rantaro did the tech stuff. I’m not really good at that part of it, but I did make sure that none of the stuff we picked out for you has any triggers that involves, you know, the stuff that happened to you.” 

She plugged the ear buds into the player’s audio jack. “I don’t really know if you actually like classical music that much, but I also asked Rantaro to put a couple songs on there you may or may not like.” She chuckled. “You can skip them if you want… Kokichi?”

He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t keep bottling it all up.

Everything was frothing over the rim and there was nothing Kokichi could do to make it stop. His emotions were dribbling through the chips and fractures of a beaten down shell and all he could do was lie there and watch.

The wail that came from him didn’t sound like him, and that only made him cry harder.

He screwed his eyes shut to try and stop, to take any kind of control. The tears kept coming. They pooled up in the hollows of his neck.

“I’m so, so sorry,” said Kaede. “I’m sorry, Kokichi. I know how hard this is. Trust me.”

Kokichi didn’t know if that was true. At least when she was crushed, she was already dead. She didn’t see the piano’s key lid drop down on her. At least she could say that.

“You’re hyperventilating.” Kaede was saying. “Do you want me to call for one of the nurses?”

“No! No…” Kokichi blurted and snapped his eyes wide open to stare back at her. “Don’t.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t. I promise.”

He could tell she wasn’t lying. His breathing slowly evened back out.

Kaede reached up and touched her neck. “I know,” she said again, in that constant whisper. “It stays with you, but it gets better.”

Kokichi, tears and snot running, could only stare back at her. It would have been an easy lie to make, but every part of what she had said was true. He could tell.

Before he could even think, he felt his hand stretch and grasp at nothing.

“You sure?” Kaede asked. She brushed her fingertips against his palm.

“Yes.”

Kaede smiled. “Okay, you want to do a little deep breathing?”

Kokichi nodded. He breathed.

He would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading. Kudos and comments are always cherished and placed in a jar by my bedside for safekeeping. <3


End file.
